He Was
by MistressOfTime1218
Summary: He was something important to the three of them, and when he was proclaimed dead, they each lost something of great value.
1. Chumvi: He Was My Backup

Simba was a lot of things. A prince, a fiancé, a show off, and a brat. He had an ego that was easily ten times bigger than Pride Rock itself. It could get him into trouble, and it often did when he wasn't being careful enough. I should know. Or rather, Nala told it to me enough times for it to sink in. Simba didn't know how to think, she was always saying, and he was always rushing into things before he had time to see if he was making a mistake or not.

It was funny to me. It wasn't every day you saw a prince get what was coming to him, but karma had a special place in her heart for Simba. She was always making sure that he got what he deserved just when he needed it the most. I would have felt bad, but most of the time Simba only got into those messes because he refused to listen to something someone else said. That or he was acting too high and mighty for his own good.

That could get annoying fast. So could him blatantly ignoring me when I demanded that we play together because I was sick of hanging around with the girls. He tended not to listen to me and just laughed. It was a bad habit of his I guess.

Regardless of that, regardless of whatever else that was negative about him, Simba was one thing I could never condemn him for. He was reliable. You could see it in the way he always protected Nala, or in the way he always listened to what his father said, but I never really thought I myself could depend on him. Not for much anyway. Not until he proved me wrong.

I can't remember every detail about that day. There was but a few things that made it memorable in my mind. It was sunny, it was warm, it was like every other happy day in Pride Rock. Only, on this day, my sister Kula had gotten herself into some trouble.

Kula had never been one for mischief, that was my thing, but that particular day she had decided to one up me by venturing out towards the edges of the Pridelands. We had always been told by our parents to never go that far. Other prides claimed those edges as their territory and did not take kindly to strangers. They were ruthless to both cubs and full grown lions, so it was better never to push our luck.

Kula had pushed hers that day, and as a good big brother I decided I had no choice but to go after her. My mother would have killed me if something bad had happened to her on my watch.

The only problem was that I didn't know where to look for her. The Pridelands were huge, and their borders were just as large and just as wide. Which direction Kula had chosen to run off to was anybody's guess. Tama could have told me where she was, but she wasn't likely to give me information without 'politely' asking for something in return. I didn't have the time. Nala would have known, for sure, where my sister was. But ask me where she was at the time? Any takers? That's right. She was with Kula, which made looking for her just as useless.

So I had to ask the next best thing where it was that I should look for all these missing lions. That next best thing came in the form of Simba, the lion prince, and Nala's best friend.

I didn't want to ask him at first. I figured he'd just give me a hard time about it. Probably make a joke about how I couldn't keep track of my own sister, or something like that, before sharing the joke with all of the other cubs. But he surprised me.

He did make a joke of course, and he did laugh a little, but in the end he decided to help me out. No questions asked. It was partly thanks to him that I eventually found Kula and Nala near one of the northern borders. Though, the thrill of finding them soon faded when I realized that they were not alone.

Three hyenas. Three cackling, evil looking, hungry hyena's surrounded my sister and Nala, who could do nothing more that cower before them. I didn't have time to think. I didn't have time to weigh in the possibilities of what could happen. I only had enough time to pounce on the hyena closest to me.

The chaos that erupted from the sudden action was enough to give the girls an opportunity to run. Meanwhile the laughing idiot's buddies were too busy trying to get me off his head. I wouldn't let him go. Teeth, claws, something was going to remain latched onto him for as long as I was able to keep hanging on. Eventually, though, as I knew they would, they did manage to get me off. When I hit the ground I fully anticipated the pain that would come with being eaten alive by viscous animals. It never came.

The minute I had been knocked down, Simba quickly latched onto the ear of another hyena. I was shocked, to say the least. I had expected the prince to run, to try and look for help with the girls. But no. He had stayed to fight. To fight alongside me, a cub he could barely claim he knew. I was too stunned to speak, but thankfully, not too stunned to move. A few seconds later I was up and ready to give Simba a hand.

I don't know how the two of us managed to hold out until the lionesses showed up, but I do know one thing. Those blurred moments of fighting were some of the best of my young life. They marked the day when I had held my own against an enemy alongside a new friend. It was also the first time I understood that Simba was not just a prince. That was his title, yes, but that was hardly all he was to me now. He was a future king, _my_ future king, who would always be willing to come to my aid when I asked him to.

From then on Simba and I had gotten into quite a few more scuffles, and trouble always seemed to come across one of us on a weekly basis. However, we never faced these problems alone. Whether it was hunger, curiosity, or another lion making us weary, we fought against it together. When I found myself in trouble, Simba always managed to find me. When he somehow got himself trapped with no way out, I found a way to burst in and get him out of danger's way. I have to admit, back then there wasn't anything we couldn't handle.

He was my backup, my right hand man, one of my very best friends. We made a promise during that first fight, a solemn vow made and signed with the blood we had shed, that we would always be there for each other. He would be there to support me, and I would protect him with my life. Even when we grew up, we knew we'd always somehow find a way to keep that promise. Nothing could make us forget it. Nor could anything make us toss it away.

That is, until Scar came along. I know now that when jealousy meets rage, and a thirst for power undermines the instinct to protect, promises can be shattered in an instant. And in the most horrible ways possible.

I hadn't known the full story back then. All I had been told, all any of us had been told, was that our king and prince had died. Scar said they were casualties of an unexpected stampede. One he knew about, but had apparently been unable to stop. And just like that, my backup was gone. The support that I had come to depend on was lost, and I had never felt so vulnerable in my life.

Without Simba around, everything just seemed so dangerous. Even my own shadow was an enemy I had to look out for. I couldn't help but be paranoid. There was no one beside me to help me thwart off any oncoming threats. There was no one to warn me when danger was near. I was alone.

Not to say that I was the only male cub there. I wasn't. There were a few others. Most importantly, there was Tojo and Malka, and Nala's kid brother Mheetu. Not to mention, there was still Tama, Nala, and Kula to look out for.

Those six needed me. They needed me to be strong for them. Simba's death had affected them all, and just as terribly as it had affected me. They needed someone to lean on. They needed someone to look to for protection. So I called upon the strength that Simba had once given me, and used it to help those who were still suffering. Though, I would often bitterly remember, there was no one there to help ease me through mine

Time flew by. Scar reigned supreme long enough to gather a group of followers in the pride. Most of them were female. All of them, in my eyes, were traitors. They seemed to lose everything that had once resembled a soul. They began doing anything for their new king with the same vigor as when they had served the old one. Even if his wishes were cruel, they seemed to think that all was just.

One by one I saw countless cubs, and some of the now grown lions, slaughtered for insubordination. All of it was done on that tyrant's word. It did not matter the severity of the crime. It did not matter if there was evidence or not. If they could have some shred of power, then they were guilty in Scar's eyes.

Soon, only a fraction of the old females remained. The only males that were still alive were Tojo, Malka, Mheetu, me, and a very aggravating lion named Leo. Why the full grown lion had not been tossed out, or killed, was a mystery to me. Considering the amount of sucking up he did, coupled with his actual threat level, I guess it wasn't hard to see why he was still among the living. Though, if you asked me, food was all that the fat tub was good for anymore.

The rest of us, well, we just tried to keep to ourselves as much as we could. The less trouble we were to Scar, the better. So we hunted, bowed, and did whatever the false king wanted us to. It was all about survival at that point. Any pride that still dwelled within us was gone. Or, at the very least, it was beaten down so terribly that we could hardly recognize it anymore. The worst part was that we couldn't afford to miss it. Not our pride, not our hope, not our courage, not anything that would make us rise up in rebellion. One wrong move and we were all done for. It was sad, but we couldn't afford weaknesses like those. We couldn't afford to make mistakes.

However, fueled by loneliness and fear, I made one very big crucial mistake. There was a lioness, a nameless one that I can hardly remember at the moment. She was as lonely and miserable as I was. As the saying goes, misery does indeed love its company. We had a cub together. She died while giving birth to my little fur-ball, but he somehow managed to stay alive. I couldn't believe it. My own little miracle, born into a world where I thought nothing of the kind could exist anymore. For the first time since I heard news of my friend's death, I was happy.

My little guy was a happy, healthy cub. He was so curious too, always getting into things he shouldn't. I couldn't count the times he literally got his nose into something hilariously dangerous. The river, an anthill, a nest, the list goes on and on. You can bet he was sneezing well into the night after every endeavor. But throughout it all he smiled. He had this bright, positively beaming smile that could have outdone any sunrise simply because it was pure light. Just an untainted happy light that shone through the grim times. One that seemed to exist for nothing more than the sole purpose of making me hope again.

However, that light didn't exist for very long. Nothing that bright ever could. Not in Scar's Kingdom.

My cub was a male, as I'm sure you've figured out by now, and that was a very big problem. Had he been born a female there may have been absolutely nothing to worry about. If he had been female, Scar may have seen a possibility in his midst. While unnerving, it would have meant he could have survived.

As it was, he wasn't a female, Scar didn't see a possibility, and had chosen to see my cub as a threat. A new male meant a new challenge in the near future. Tojo, Malka, and I had just barely been suppressed enough to stay in the Pridelands. It had taken longer than it should have to crush us to a point where he could order us around as he wished. Andy ideas of rebellion had been ripped out from our minds long ago.

Newborn cubs hadn't had their wills destroyed yet. Their blood could still boil with a rage that hungered for the tyrant king. New cubs could still rise up and try to battle Scar for the throne. They could win too, if they were strong and determined enough to fight him with all they had. It wasn't as though any of us would fight to keep the dark lion safe. The only ones he could partly trust were the hyenas he had control over. So, in his mind, Scar had only one choice that would allow him to remain in power. The only way he could keep that fresh blood from boiling over was to spill it immediately.

My cub, along with one Malka had brought into the world, was murdered. They were killed with a vicious claw by order of a wretched king. And just like that, my hope for the future was gone. It had been destroyed all over again.

What replaced it was a viscous and somewhat toxic emotion. Hate. I was enraged. Enraged far beyond anything words could describe. I knew who had called for such terrible things. I knew who was paranoid enough to destroy new life before it had a proper chance to grow. I knew who smiled as news reached me of my son's death, and I knew I wanted that lion dead. I wanted him dead, and I wanted his blood on my claws.

So, Malka and I thought up a plan. We were going to take the false on as a tag team, gang up on him in the dead of night when he was at his most vulnerable. Once he was dead we would give the throne over to the one who most deserved it. Just who that was, we would decide later. It seemed so brilliant to us at the time. Little did we know how brilliantly idiotic it really was.

As I said before, no lion, except for the ones who now supported him, and they were not strong enough, would stand against us to defend Scar. But the hyenas would, and they were always prepared for any oncoming danger. That was their job. That was what Scar kept them around for. He was to be protected at all times. They were to be prepared at all moments of the day. They had been ready for us on that night as well, though Malka and I had foolishly forgotten about them. What a welcome wagon that had been.

Thankfully, we managed to escape death at the last possible second. I won't lie. I thought I was going to die that day. It was only thanks to Tojo and a quickly thought up escape plan that saved me and Malka from the grave. But the price for escaping was high. In exchange for my life, I had to leave the Pridelands behind. I had to leave behind my home, my history, and any remaining friends I had promised to protect.

I left the western border of the decaying Pridelands with the knowledge that I would probably never return. The ones I was saying goodbye to would never come after me. They probably thought Tojo, Malka, and I were dead. Scar had most likely made up some elaborate excuse as to why we weren't there anymore. Whatever it was, it would keep Nala, Kula, and Tama from trying to find us.

Throughout it all, throughout the escape, the traveling, and the finding of a new home, I kept wishing. Somehow, I was able to still believe in wishes.

I wished that somehow, by some great miracle, Simba would suddenly appear. That he would pop up to help me through life's latest hardships. That he would once again stand by my side to aid me in my fight against the new evils that had taken over the savanna. But he, like my little cub, was gone. There was no way for him to return.

He was my backup, but he was gone now. I was on my own.

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><p>MistressOfTime1218: Hi there. I'm brand new to this fandom, though I am a long time fan of the Lion King and its various sequels. An idea for a story relating to this fandom popped into my head a few months ago, and I came to develop it from there. However, I saw that a few things needed to be done before I posted it up.<p>

For example, a couple of other stories relating to the tale needed to be put up first, as it would be important for the events and character personalities later on in the main story. Therefore, this short piece was born. It's only going to be about four chapters, but it'll give me some insight as to whether that main story will be posted or not.

Also, I should mention, that I respect authors and readers in this fandom very much. Some are amazing in their creations, and I can only hope this is on par with them. Any constructive criticism and questions are always welcome, very much so, and any help you can give is appreciated. Especially since I'm still toying with first person point of view. Let me know what you think. Thanks!


	2. Tojo: He Was My Confidant

I had always been unfortunate enough to find myself involved in a lot of accidents when I was young. An awful lot of accidents. Most of which left me unable to move around for any extended period of time. I don't know whether it was a natural clumsiness on my part, or simply an affinity for increasingly bad luck by way of some kind of birth given curse. If it was the former, I have no one to blame but myself. If it was the latter, I have yet to find the one that marked me for misery. If I ever do, they're going to get it. But that's neither here nor there.

Back to this bad luck of mine that had made me go through quite a lot of pain. Whatever it was, it has never bothered to leave me alone. Even in adulthood, it always winds up throwing me for a loop and making a fool out of me whenever I least expect it. The difference is that now I can handle it better. Back when I was a cub, though, there was no handling or avoiding it. There was merely a bitter acceptance.

As you can imagine, thanks to all my injuries, I spent a lot of time by myself. After all, no one wanted to play with the cub that was not going to move further than two inches. What fun would that be? Let me answer that for you. It was no fun at all. Because of that, many of my days were spent with no one for company but my own shadow, just thinking. It was such a lonely business, and I can't ever remember myself enjoying it. Not until Simba, the next lion king, gave me a few thoughtful companions.

That nest of birds he gave me was a bigger blessing than I could have ever imagined. I could talk to them, think with them, and when I finally got back on my feet, travel with them all over the Pridelands. They were great pals to have around, and they were always sure to stay with me when I was immobile. And thanks to Simba raising them up to a decent level, I did not have to go through the trouble of raising them from infancy. They were great.

Sometimes though, just sometimes mind you, talking to my birds did me more harm than good. Some of the other cubs used to tease me about them. They thought it was silly that I put so much attention and affection into animals who they thought were below me. I tried to get them to see things my way, but children rarely ever listen to good reason. No matter what I did, no matter what I said, nothing ever seemed to stop the comments, or the stinging that accompanied the laughs and smug looks.

I never said anything about it to my mother or to any of my usual friends. I'm sure they would have loved to help, but I never felt as though I could talk to them about it. Maybe it was a fear of disappointment, maybe it was anxiousness about what they would think of me after I told them. I still cannot figure out why I chose to lie to them whenever they asked me if I as alright. All I knew was that something inside me made it impossible for me to say what I really wanted to, and I could never defy the feeling that told me to stay quiet.

But I had to say something to _somebody_. Keeping everything bottled up inside was driving me up a wall. It had me nearly ready to bash my head against the rocks that made up my beloved homeland. Someone had to know what I was going through, or I was going to go insane. I just could not for the life of me figure out who it should be. After months of secret searching, it got to a point where I thought that I would never find that one soul who would willingly listen and actually seem to care. True to instinct, I never did find them.

They found me. The lion prince, Simba, found me brooding at the watering hole one day and sat down to talk. I told him so much that afternoon. Angers, frustrations, fears, and wishes that had never before left the corridors of my own mind. Things that I had never so much as whispered before were laid out on the dirt in front of him. And when it was time for bed, he promised me that we could sit down and talk again. Same time, same watering hole.

We would talk for hours, him and me, only moving when it was time to eat or sleep. Never once did he judge me or laugh at my circumstances. Never once did he try to make himself seem bigger than me by telling me what I should do. He just listened.

I'll be honest. I know he probably never understood much of what I was saying. As a prince, the teasing and whispering would have never been aimed at him directly. But that was not the point. At least he stayed there and seemed attentive. At least he _tried_ to understand. That was the important thing.

No one else had ever tried before, because no one else had ever really wanted to know. To the other cubs I was just Tojo, a clumsy lion who sometimes ended up with a sour end of the deal presented to him. To Simba, well, I guess I was a bit more than that. To Simba, I was someone to talk to about everything and nothing at all until the sun went down.

And what was he to me? Simple. To me, Simba was a confidant. He was the lion I was able to confide in. About the other lions, about the future, about everything and anything. I never stuttered or stumbled over my words when I was with him, and he never let himself get distracted when he was listening to me. It was near perfect system.

Simba never told anyone about the things we discussed at the watering hole. It must have been hard. I know others asked him. They were never quiet in their curiosity. They wanted to know, and they wanted to hear it from his mouth. However, he did not so much as give them a proper hint about what was said between us.

"Nothing." He would say with a smile when someone asked what he had done with me, before quickly suggesting some type of game.

I asked him once why he never felt the need to say anything. He showed me that cocky little grin of his and said,

"It's a secret between the two of us. Why should they have to know?"

Then he bounded off to answer one of Nala's many calls. And I smiled.

A secret between the two of us, he had said. Something that no one else needed to know, he had implied. Something almost sacred shared between two good friends that need not be seen by overly judgmental eyes, or overheard by too-quick-to-assume ears. A secret that just…was. I know it's hard to understand, but that's the only way I can explain it. It just was, and that was something very wonderful indeed.

Then one day, Simba left on a short outing with his uncle Scar, and he didn't come back. And all of a sudden, what just was…well, it wasn't there anymore.

We were told it was an accidental death. A stampede had crushed both Simba and his father, who had been trying to save the young cub from an almost certain death. When Scar arrived, he claimed it had been too late to save them. It was nobody's fault, he explained. It was just an accident.

Yet, I did not see an accident in those dark eyes. As the hyena's made themselves known, I realized just what was hidden deep within those wicked depths. It wasn't a twist of fate, or an unfortunate occurrence. It wasn't mourning or sadness over a loved one's death. It was murder. Calculating, cold blooded, murder. As soon as I understood that, I wanted him to pay for what he had done.

But who could I have told? The one lion who had always listened to me, the one who had always tried to understand, was gone. Without him, who would hear of my suspicions? Who would defend me if those suspicions got me into serious trouble? No one. No one but my birds, and they could not do much in a lion's world. There was nothing that could be done.

Simba was dead.

For a couple of weeks I could not accept that. I could not bring myself to believe that Simba was never going to talk to me again. That he was never going to pop up and play with me before it was time to head off to dinner. So day after day I went down to the watering hole and waited. I waited for the prince to show himself so I could tell him all about what was troubling me.

"I miss you and the king." I wanted to tell him. "I don't trust Scar at all." I wanted to let him know.

I saw his face sometimes, in the sunset skies and in the clear blue waters, but never in the flesh. It was only my imagination toying with me in the cruelest way it could. After a few painful mind games, I had to face the harsh reality of it all.

Simba was gone, and so was the one lion that I trusted more than anything else in this world. Just the thought of it made my blood run cold, and there were numerous times when I wanted to break down and cry. I was terrified. Without the prince to defend me and lift me up, I would have to turn my strengths into weaknesses practically overnight. Otherwise I was not going to survive. It was a hard task for a young cub, but I somehow managed to do what I had to.

Time changed, and I changed right along with it, just as everything else in it's in its path did. Surprisingly enough, some tings still managed to remain the same. I was still slightly clumsy, still fairly timid, and for the most part I still only talked to the birds that flew over my head. Though, thankfully, I had managed to find a few new friends, some trustworthy allies, in that very dark and horrid time.

Malka, Chumvi, and I tended to stick together in the darkening kingdom. Together we chose to remain docile little creatures that always did what we were told. It was instinctual. It was survival. Cubs far more powerful and open mouthed were disappearing left and right, with no sign of what had happened to them but bloodied hyena lips. If we were not careful, we would undoubtedly be next.

As much as it still pains me to admit, we could not have won any fight we started. Could we have taken on Scar? Sure. Could we have beaten him and taken over? Absolutely. Could we have handled his constantly starving army? Not a chance.

So we had no choice but to set limits to ourselves. We had rules and promises in play that would keep us from getting ourselves killed. One was that we had to leave our pride behind us. Acting high and mighty would do us no good. No matter what we thought we deserved, we were not going to give any indication that we were thinking of taking it. Thinking like that meant rebellion, and rebellion meant death. We also could not allow ourselves to become attached to the new barren Pridelands. If we got attached, and what we were attached to was endangered, someone was bound to be hurt. It most likely would have been us.

I had followed those rules as though they were the direct words of the great kings from the past. Never did I raise my head to the new king, never did I show sign of displeasure with his rule, and never did I allow myself to become bonded to the Pridelands in some way. Chumvi and Malka, unfortunately, did.

One day, in the desolate wasteland of what had once been a glorious kingdom, two very large attachments came along without warning. They arrived in the form of two cubs that looked nearly identical to my two friends. They were adorable, I had to admit. They were energetic, smart, and chalk full of large hopes and big dreams. They were two shimmering lights in the lives of two lions that had been doused in darkness for far too long.

Had Mufasa still been king, those two would have grown up with all the blessings that the savanna had to offer. However, in Scar's rule, they were two very dangerous creatures that would only ever see the cruelty of Pride Rock.

Scar took those two innocent lights as threats. Threats that needed to be eliminated, and eliminated they were.

My friends mourned greatly. Honestly, I was reminded of the day that Simba was murdered. It was no surprise, seeing as who the culprit was. I knew who it had been so many years ago, and I knew who it was now. Two bodies did not satisfy him. Neither did three, four, or even five. No, I knew that no amount of blood would satisfy him. Not even if all the animals in the savanna were drop dead at his call. He would still crave more.

I realized then that I had no choice but to leave the Pridelands. Things would never remain as 'peaceful' as I had originally hoped. If Scar could murder innocent children, he could take care of me without any problems whatsoever. It was only a matter of time before the usurper realized he could not trust me completely, and in reality he never would. Once that happened I was as good as I dead. I needed to leave, fast.

Before I left, I made the mistake of telling Chumvi and Malka who had killed their cubs. I thought I was doing them a favor, being loyal by telling them what I knew, but I had foolishly made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. They were upset, of course, and they were angry, _of course_. I knew they were going to be. So what had made me think that telling them who murdered their children would be the best plan I could think of? Especially when we had all hated him to begin with?

Anybody have a clue? I sure don't. To this day I had no idea what I was doing. Of all the days to be honest, when I had been lying and feigning contentment for so long, why had I chosen that day to suddenly tell the truth? I wish I could go back and stop myself from opening my mouth. But then, it's pointless to wish for a change in the past, isn't it?

Needless to say, their reactions were not pleasant. Their first instinct was to throw reason to the wind and attempt to overthrow the current king. Two against one were pretty good odds, and even Scar had to admit that he wasn't as young as he used to be. However, while he had neither age nor impressive strength, Scar did have one thing that Malka and Chumvi did not. He had an entire army at his beck and call, waiting for their next meal, and willing to do anything to get it. My two friends were merely fresh meat on the menu.

I tried to warn them. However, my friends would not listen to reason until it was too late, and they fought me whenever I tried to change their minds. Common sense told me it would have been better to flee right then and there without looking back. Yet I did nothing of the sort. I could not possibly bring myself to leave them to die. Not after I had lost Simba. Not after I had been stripped of everything else. Besides, it was my fault. I had been the one to get them into this mess, and I was going to be the one to get them out while they were still breathing.

It was far from easy. In the end, my birds had ended up as distractions, teasing the hyenas with flying appetizers, while I dragged my friends away by their tails. Literally. They had not wanted to budge. No matter what I said, they remained adamant about taking Scar on at full strength. It was only minutes before my birds had given up the charade of being clueless prey that they finally got the hint and moved on their own.

Still, they had been angry at me as we made our way out of the Pridelands. Maybe I had been selfish to save them. Looking back on it now, maybe I should have let them fight. If they had won, they would have saved our kingdom. If they had died, at least they would have been with their families.

To them, their lives were meaningless. I seemed to be the only one who cared enough about them to want them alive. And that made me angry, so I refused to speak to them, and they in turn didn't try to talk to me. Things remained that way for three painfully awkward days.

It was the loneliness and guilt that eventually brought us back to speaking terms, and together we began looking for a new place to stay. We were able to find a new pride, one that didn't seem to have a king or a queen, which welcomed us with open arms. The listened to our story, tried to comfort us, and offered to help us start over again.

It was nice, but it was far from home. The lions were all decent creatures that were warm and friendly, but they were not Simba.

That would have made everything just so much more bearable. If Simba had been there, if he had somehow managed to live through the stampede, I know everything would have been so much better than what it all turned out to be. Because by him surviving the attack on his life, it would have meant there was still hope in a lost cause. It would have meant there was a shred of light at the end of a dark abyss of a tunnel. Him just listening to every fear, doubt, and insecurity I had would have been enough to make me believe that things were not going to stay bad forever. But Simba wasn't there.

My confidant was dead, and so as the delusion that I was no longer alone with my thoughts.

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><p>MistressOfTime1218: Second chapter up and running. With any luck the third chapter will be up in a few days. Fingers crossed. Hope you guys like it, and let me know if you have any questions. R&amp;R please and thank you!<p> 


	3. Malka: He Was My Brother

I had a bad habit of getting lost. There was this terrible sense of direction, born and bred deep inside my core, that would never allow me to tell the difference between a good trail and a path to disaster. I suppose I shouldn't feel so bad about it. Everyone was created with some major flaw that made the others around them cringe. Stupidity, crude tongue, over active imagination, something that made people feel sorry for you. Mine just happened to be a rotten sense of direction. That and a deep rooted sense of fear, which did not help matters one bit when you were lost, let me tell you.

But, even though this little imperfection of mine got me into plenty of trouble before I could even roar properly, I could never find it in myself to hate it. It brought me to the Pridelands after all, and it brought me to my new big brother.

Though, truth be told, I don't think Simba really liked me all that much at first. I asked him about a few times. He denied it, looked the other way, and quickly tried to change the subject after muttering something under his breath. Anytime I'd ask one of his friends, they'd just laugh and move on.

I honestly didn't care too much about it at the time. If he didn't like me at first, I somehow managed to grow on him. Grow on him enough for all of us cubs to play together without any problems when I came to visit. Which was, admittedly, a lot. What can I say? The place grew on me too.

The first few times I made the trip back to Pride Rock, Zazu came to get me. He never got lost with that bird's eye view of his, and he somehow managed to keep me from losing my way as well. However, on days when the Mojo Donno was too busy to pick me up, my mother would take me to the closest border were Simba would be waiting for me.

Thinking back on that arrangement now, it was awfully risky. Anything could have happened to the prince from point A to point B. He could have been attacked, kidnapped, or something far worse. He was a cub for goodness sake, and cubs, regardless of how bright and great they seemed for their age, could not take on the world and come out unscathed.

Back then though, the arrangement made perfect sense to me. Simba was brave, nearly fearless, and nothing bad seemed to happen to him. He of all lions should have been able to keep me safe, on track, and secure until we reached the Pridelands. Besides, that was his kingdom, his domain. He knew it better than anybody. It should have been an easy trip.

It should have, but that was hardly ever the case. Don't ask me how, don't ask me why, but there was usually never an instance where the two of us did not happen to lose our way. Somehow, some way, the road that should have been easily recognizable managed to turn into a never ending maze whenever Iwas scheduled to come into the Pridelands. Simba was always so amazed by it.

"I've traveled this roads dozens of times before! How could I have gotten lost?"

I think I told him once that I was cursed, but he just rolled his eyes and tried to take us back to the main trail.

We got lost together a lot, but I don't think there was ever a time when we truly regretted it. Every time we wandered off from the main pathways, we always found ourselves in the midst of a brand new adventure. Sometimes we'd spot new animals, sometimes we'd discover new unexplored areas of the Pridelands, and sometimes we'd even come across other prides. The last one was rarely ever pleasant, usually ending with the two of us running for our lives, but it was fun. It was also one of the rare instances when my bad sense of direction didn't seem like so much of a curse.

Leave it to Simba to turn a supposed curse into a gift. You might be asking yourselves, why thank Simba for that? Shouldn't that have been something you'd realize on your own after so long? The answer is easy. He's the only reason why I can see it as a gift to begin with.

If anyone else were to ever get lost with me, we'd only end up having a miserable time. They would blame me, I would cower in my imaginary corner, and no one would even bother to look at each other until three days of mandatory silent treatment were said and done with.

With Simba it was different. Sure, he'd get mad for a minute or two, maybe grumble about the rotten luck he was having, before smiling and declaring it an adventure day. He would even try to reassure me that things weren't entirely my fault. Sometimes I needed that assurance because there were times when I was sure that I was to blame for every bad thing going on in our lives at that moment.

He really was like a brother to me.

Up until that point I hadn't known what it was like to have a sibling. I was the only cub in my litter, and my mother was less than willing to give me a little brother or sister. I was able to get away with asking about five times before the calm threat of never being able to have cubs of my own came into the equation, stopping every attempt thereafter. Plan B, asking the other cubs in my pride to play with me, proved to be just as futile. They didn't like me. They said I was annoying, unlucky, and not really worth the trouble I was going to eventually bring them.

I don't think they meant to be cruel. Cubs are just brutally honest. They don't quite understand the true concept of feelings or what it means to hurt them. So the cubs back in my pride didn't know what their words did to me. They didn't know about the stings my heart experienced, and because they didn't know they would never be able to apologize. But, regardless of how mean they were, I understood them completely. I wouldn't want to be caught dead with me either.

I got lost way too easily, as I've said before and will undoubtedly say again, and I got scared even easier than that. Sometimes I was afraid of things that shouldn't even qualify as something fear worthy. Shadows of rocks that stayed still, a leaf that had fallen in front of my face, or the sound of water being mistaken for something I couldn't even identify at the time, just to name a few. And when I got scared, shortly after I got lost, I had a tendency to cling to whoever was closest to me. That, understandably, made some lions very uncomfortable.

Simba wasn't one of those lions. He took the clinging rather well, much better than I would have expected, and he never made fun of me for being afraid. I think he understood fear a bit better than anyone else our age. Of course, the things I was scared of had to be very different than the aspects of life that would frighten a prince. Still, Simba at least tried to understand everything I ever told him.

He would always try to quench my fears, no matter what it was I had become frightened of.

Whether it be getting lost,

"We're not lost. We're just going on an unexpected adventure."

Finding unfamiliar animals,

"They're just friends we haven't met yet. Or a very interesting story to tell later on. Just stay close either way."

Or the fear of a darkening sky,

"If the sun never went down, we'd never see the great kings of the past."

Simba had, not surprisingly, been to the one to tell me that story. Until then, I never thought much about the starts that shone in the night sky. In our pride they never held any real significance. My mom once told me about the existence of a particular star that could guide me home if I got lost, not that I ever found that star mind you, but other than that we didn't have any stories that suddenly made them relevant to me. They were just bright lights in the sky. If nothing else, they were enough to keep me slightly calm when I got lost during the evening hours.

But Simba said that they were more than that. He told me that they were so much more than what I could possibly imagine. Apparently, what I had once thought to be simple lights in the sky, were actually the spirits of great kings who once ruled over the Pridelands. There they looked down on their descendents, watching over them and offering subtle wisdom when times became tough.

I almost didn't believe in such an incredible tale. It was a lovely story, but that was all it was. It was just a story. It was something to tell young cubs so that they could still believe in the mysticism of the world, right?

But then Simba looked up to the sky, mischief shining in his eyes, and said, "Look at that, he doesn't believe you guys are really there. You going to take that?"

I kid you not. Just about every star in that sky seemed to twinkle one after the other. Then they all seemed to shimmer together as one brilliant beacon of light amongst the darker background. It was if they were answering Simba, answering me, and taking his challenge head on. I scrambled behind the prince and uttered several apologies to the great kings, along with a few promises to never doubt them again, only to have Simba laugh and assure that his ancestors would not punish me for not knowing about them.

"Just don't forget again, okay? And don't tell anyone else about this. It's a little secret between me and my dad."

I blinked. "Then why tell me?"

"You're practically family now. You can be in on things like this."

Right then, right at that moment, he really and truly became my big brother. Officially. He was willing to share his dearest of secrets with me. _Me_, who was nothing more than a common lion from another pride. I didn't even belong in his kingdom. Yet he treated me like an actual blood brother. No one in my own pride had even given me a decent friendship to hold onto. And yet Simba had given me brotherhood. Imagine that.

The prince was the reason why I kept coming back to the Pridelands, and he was the reason why I showed up as often as I did. It was he who introduced me to a whole other world filled with things that never failed to make me smile. I had friends there. I had another family there. I also had a lot more room to play in. It was a spectacular home away from home, and sometimes I forgot that there was another pride I belonged to. There were times when I pretended that it really _was_ my home. Silly, I know, but it was a childish little dream that every cub lays down with at night before bed. The kind that makes them smile and wish just a little harder than the day before.

Yes, I had always secretly hoped for such thing, but I never truly believed that the Pridelands would one day become the only home I was going to be allowed to know. And even if I had suspected the outcome, I don't think I would have ever believed in the way things would have played out.

One day I somehow managed to make it to the Pridelands on my own. As in, no Simba, no Zazu, no mother, no asking for help, and _no getting lost_. I was very proud of myself. I thought I would brag a bit to Simba when I saw him. Not only would he be shocked about my presence, I hadn't told him I was coming that day, but he would probably be blown away by the fact that I had made the trip by myself. It would show him that his not-so-younger brother could stand on his own two feet every now and again. I couldn't wait.

So imagine my disappointment when I found out he wasn't at Pride Rock that day. Chumvi told me that the prince had gone off somewhere with his uncle Scar. Nobody really knew what for, but he had been really excited about it at the time. So excited that he only had time to tell everyone not to expect him until nightfall before bouncing off to a predetermined meeting place.

I must have pouted, or looked childish in some way, because Chumvi laughed and invited me to play a game with him, Tama, Tojo, Kula, and Nala. With me on board there could be even teams, a boys versus girls duel that would last until Simba returned. I figured it would pass the time, and those guys were always a blast to play with, so I agreed.

The entire duration of the game, I kept counting down the minutes until Simba came back. There was a sick sort of feeling way down in the pit of my stomach that just would not go away. It kept nagging at me, telling me to run off and find my brother as soon as I could. It said if I didn't, I would never get the chance again. It was such a scary feeling. One I didn't entirely understand and one I didn't know how to explain to the others. I just assumed it was anxiety from not seeing the prince right upon my arrival. I thought it would pass once I was able to see him and confirm that he was okay, with us, and safe from harm.

I was relieved when the sun finally set. It meant that my big brother would soon return home. I could forget all about that eerie feeling and never have to experience it again.

You all know the drill by now, don't you? Nothing good ever lasts in these types of stories. As you can probably guess, mine didn't last for too long either. No, I don't think it lasted long at all, actually.

Scar was the only one to return to Pride Rock that night. With a sour expression on his face, and a sad tone in his voice, he told the entire pride that both the king and the prince had been killed. The culprit had been a sudden stamped. One that had not noticed the lions they had trampled. Those beloved lions were dead now, leaving Scar as the only heir able to take the throne.

I sobbed that night. Sobbed so terribly that I actually made myself sick. Cried so hard that the rain dropping down from the sky would have been envious of the tears falling down my face. I just could not help myself. The grief was just too much. It was all too sudden.

My brother was dead. The only cub that had ever truly accepted me the way I was. The only lion besides my mother who ever took care of me without any expectations. The only one to invite me into his world, a world I didn't belong in, regardless of the social standing I had with him. And just like that, he was gone? He had suddenly just up and vanished with no warning? Just like that, he had really left me behind?

A few days later, the sick feeling returned. This time it was aimed at Scar, and it was a lot different from the one I had pertaining to Simba. The old one had told me to run as fast as I could **towards** the prince. The new one was telling me I should run as far **away** as I could from the new king. I should have paid attention to the first, and I'd be a fool to not take heed of the second.

But when Scar looked at me and asked me where my mother was, I realized I would never be able to take that second warning to heart.

I should mention something now before I continue on with this story, and it would probably be best just to be blunt with it all. Scar was no Mufasa. Mufasa knew each and every lion in his pride. He knew their scents, knew the way they roared, and knew which way their fur parted. He knew who it was who stepped into the Pridelands at any given moment, and he knew who had left probably even before Zazu caught wind of the news. Scar did not. Scar did not care about those details. He didn't know every lion and every cub. He would never be able to tell an outsider from a pride member if it ever came down to it. Not during that initial take over. So in that sense, Scar was a fool.

He had seen me in the Pridelands so many times before that he thought I was actually one of its inhabitants. It presented me with an interesting dilemma. I could run. I could tell him I had nothing to do with this kingdom he had just inherited and run away once the sun set. Or I could lie, wait for a free moment, and then bolt when I had a chance for a clean getaway. I could, but I knew I wouldn't.

I couldn't afford to run. Or, rather, I didn't have it in me. The guilt was too strong. I didn't go to Simba when I had the chance. Now I was going to punish myself for so carelessly throwing away the opportunity. I pretended to be a pridelander.

I was there to witness the decay of green, the near extinction of game, and the execution of so many lions that didn't deserve to die. I was there when the pride was literally cut in half, when the hyenas became our superiors, and when all traces of innocence were slaughtered right before my very eyes.

Throughout it all I kept on pretending. No one ever said a word about my presence, and the oddity of it all, for fear that I would be killed. They had, though, on numerous occasions tried to convince me to return to my old pride. I would be safer there, they tried to tell me, and I could forget all about the destruction I was seeing. I would always refuse. There was nothing there for me, I would say back to them, and I doubted that anyone would miss me.

Well, I was wrong about one thing. Someone from my old pride did miss me. A lioness I used to play with when I was a cub. She apparently had issues with me staying in the Pridelands. It had shocked me at first. My memories of her had been far and few in between. What I remembered most about her was the way she complained about my overly clingy tendencies to anyone who would listen. I also recalled a particularly embarrassing moment in my young life when my mother had suggested that the two of us get married when we were older. This lioness laughed outright, and when I ran off she laughed even louder. She had grown up nicely, and had come to retrieve me on behalf of my mother.

I didn't go, of course, though she did try very hard to convince me to leave with her. She remained close to the borders of the Pridelands, dragging me away every now and again for a few long talks. I enjoyed the company, I suppose, even if I didn't enjoy her. I felt that the arrangement was somewhat unfair, so I tried to get her to understand that while her visits were fine, she was never going to be able to convince me to leave. I had friends that were still alive. I had responsibilities that I still needed to see too. I had guilt that still had yet to leave the deepest crevices of my heart. A few angry begs were not going to convince me to go anywhere.

She never took no for an answer. I think I would have been angrier about her attitude if I had not already witnessed it in the Pridelands. She was a bit like Nala, Tama, and Kula, if I sat down and really thought about it. Stubborn as always, and she never could leave well enough alone. Though, unlike the females in the Pridelands, she never knew how to keep a strong attitude and still hold onto her life. It was that lack of knowledge that eventually led to her death by starving hyenas.

Before she died, she did manage to leave me a little gift. A small cub of my very own. He had somehow managed to remain hidden amongst some thick foliage when his mother was attacked, and it was almost by instinct that he called out to me from his hiding spot when I came upon the scene.

I was amazed by how much he looked like me. Though, if I were honest with myself, he wasn't all that similar to me personality wise. He wasn't scared of much, just the hyenas, and he never seemed to irrationally cling to whatever he could get his claws on, though he did know when to stay close. He also wasn't as loud as I used to be when I was young. My little guy was so quiet, so gentle, and he barely ever left my side. He would smile softly, listen to everything I said, and when the sun went down he would cuddle up next to me and sleep through the night. He was impossible not to love, and I don't think I could have felt any less for him even if I tried.

Of course Scar, the sorry excuse for a king, seemed awfully intent on killing everything that I ever held dear. My brother, my new home, and then my son. It wasn't long before the tyrant murdered my cub, in cold blood, making me see a long steady stream of red that I had never before witnessed in my life. At that moment I wanted Scar to die, and I wanted to be the one to kill him. I didn't care about the consequences. I didn't care what happened after the evil abomination fell. I just wanted him dead. I wanted compensation for everything he had taken from me. His filthy life would not equal those he had taken, but it would have been a good start.

Before I knew what was happening, Chumvi and I had planned out the usurpers demise. Then, not long after that, the two of us had decided to go ahead and put our plan into action.

It was a hopeless effort, really. We were outnumbered and outmatched. There was never a solid hope for succeeding. We had fooled ourselves into believing there was, and that had been what kept us going when common sense told us to back down, but the truth was far more gruesome. Our plan was never going to work. It was as simple as that. There was too much working against us for the matter to even come close to victory.

We should have died that night. Scar should have had us executed for committing treason. He should have had some cockamamie excuse for our demise that next morning. He would have too, had it not been for Tojo.

After a rushed and desperate escape, we eventually ended up running back to my old pride. There was had no king or queen there, simply a pride run by a few head lions and their mates, o there would be no major reason for us to be turned away. Not for a while at least. It was the only place we could think of that might offer us an ounce of safety.

Thankfully we were not turned away. The lions there were very happy to see us, me, safe and sound. They offered to take us in, and we had no choice but to solemnly accept. And I went back to pretending to be a happy in a situation I had no control over.

In all honesty, I felt like such a coward. A part of me felt as though I should have stayed behind. I should have faced the punishment I had placed upon myself. I should have accepted the fate that had befallen me. Just like Simba had.

I had often thought about the day when Simba disappeared forever. I thought about how he dealt with those final precious moments of his life. In my mind he died valiantly, brave as ever in facing the things that would kill him. I also imagined him saying a final goodbye to those he held dear. His mother, his fiancé, his friends, and maybe even me.

I wonder what he thought about leaving us behind. Smart though he may have been, I don't think he ever thought much about the future aside from becoming king. If he knew that he was going to die, what would he have done? What could he have done to prepare us for such a horrible event? How would he have said goodbye?

I don't think anything could have prepared me for it. I mean, how does one come to terms with permanently losing a sibling? Who could handle that kind of situation gracefully? No one but Scar, I'm sure. If Simba had known he was about to die, and had he tried to say goodbye, I don't think I would have taken it well. No, I **know** I wouldn't have taken it well at all. I would have cried. I would have yelled. I would have begged him to stay with me. So, in hindsight, maybe it was better that he hadn't gotten the opportunity to say his farewells. Or maybe it's worse. I don't know anymore.

I wish he was here to tell me, to help me understand the situation and figure out the jumbled mass of thoughts in my head. I wish he could still be here by my side. Because it hurts. It hurts, knowing the affection of a sibling only to have it ripped away so violently. I had a brother, and then suddenly that brother was no longer with me. It was like a part of me, a part of the lion I had grown into, had just been mercilessly slaughtered. And it **hurts**.

The lion who had once welcomed me into his family is now long gone. My big brother was dead, and what was worse than that? I couldn't find his star amongst those of the great kings of the past.

* * *

><p>MistressOfTime1218: Phew, this took a long longer to get out than I had originally intended. Well, we're almost done, one more chapter left, so it won't be long now. Thank you to all who have stuck with me thus far, and I hope the next chapter won't disappoint. As always, opinions and responses of all kinds are welcomed and appreciated.<p> 


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